[OPEN] Smoke and Mirrors: Perendale

[minrathousian]

WHO: OPEN!
WHAT: The Inquisition's forces fight against the Venatori to prevent Corypheus from seizing power in Perendale.
WHEN: Early November.
WHERE: Perendale, Nevarra
NOTES: Violence.

On the edges of Corypheus' territory, Perendale is the site of a major Venatori offensive--a push by Corypheus' forces to take control of the city and push his influence further across Thedas. The Inquisition's forces have rallied to answer the Nevarran governor's desperate plea for support. The battle for Perendale will decide the fate of hundreds within the city's walls.

Comments

for kostos

[galvanising]

It's not the end, just the end of the beginning. The siege engines have been destroyed in a crash of flame and shrapnel, a casualty of the Inquisition's vigorous defense of Perendale. Those Venatori and soldiers that survived the assault on the walls and the bottlenecking before the gates and the explosion of the battering rams have either made their way into the city already or are fleeing now, only a few stubbornly refusing to retreat.

"Left, they're behind the carts," Nell spots movement, robes and the flash of armor nearly hidden by the wreckage of a merchant caravan. She shifts her staff back up into a ready position, low at her side but the end topped by a glowing spirit blade angled up and out, off hand just skimming along the leather wrapping on the shaft, now slick with blood. "I can't tell how many. Scare them out for me?"

[exequy]

There are times Kostos may joke about feeling used and times he may make unhappy noises about this particular sort of magic, but those times are not this time, when his blood is still rushing in his ears and someone else's is spattered down his front and his commander (former, but old habits, etc.) is giving commands.

He steps sideways until he can see one of them. A lingering wisp trails after him—a bright spot of pure curiosity, unbothered by the carnage—and where the invaders are hiding he reaches through the Veil and drags out something larger, more powerful, and not any less pure of purpose. Fear, this time. Whatever they see, with that spirit falling on them, it's enough for them to scatter, shouting.

Kostos' breath snags, too. The difference between him and every other mage who tosses that spell around is that he can feel it. But he was expecting it, so that's the only sign. He raises his staff and, so steeled, sounds dry and a little distantly bored as he points out what's now obvious: "Five."